My Gay Best Friend's Gay Best Friend (Is Me)
by sudowoodo
Summary: Sirius has erectile dysfunction, and decides that batting for the other team might solve his problem. Makes perfect sense, right? Trouble is, his homosexual escapades seem to upset Moony… Who knows why though. Remus, on the other hand, knows first hand that one can't simply turn gay overnight. So why did his best friend and long-time crush have to go and get his hopes up?
1. Chapter 1

**So this is just a dumb story I thought up years ago and decided to write now that I am significantly more comfortable with my love for gay men. Lol. More like fictional characters who I have just decided love the D purely coz it's hot. I'm not trying very hard to sound very British or even very like it's the 70s because I am simply not bothered and I wanted to practice writing with a more modern way of speaking anyway. The language is atrocious and occasionally offensive, hence the rating. Also smut. There also might be more serious feels and issues dealt with later but yah I haven't decided yet. It's supposed to be funny, mostly. I'm aiming for seven/eight chapters. Let's see how that goes :D**

 **Thanks for clicking, and I hope you enjoy reading! Plz review if you like it, as I am always in need of self-assurance ;)**

* * *

SIRIUS

I'm not gonna lie, the girl sitting in front of me had fairly massive tits. And I'm not making a mountain out of a bloody B-cup here, alright? They were fucking H for humongous. M for monstrous. P for planetary, or something. I dunno. I'll ask Moony for more adjectives later. What I'm saying is, these yokes had their own gravitational field, and I knew more than one poor fool was likely to get sucked into orbit anytime soon.

But not me.

No. In fact, I found this field's force a little more on the repulsive side.

But I'll get back to that later.

So, dear friend, here I was: spending a highly unextraordinary evening in the Gryffindor common room, sat in an armchair with a fittie in my lap and these massive bongoes bludgeoning me every time I bloody budged. I can't get over this. They were just HUGE. OK? It was like … a fat bloke's arse crack bursting out of her blouse. Or ol' Slughorn's stomach slapped twice to her chest.

I mean, when did that even happen? Last I heard Wormtail had the biggest tits in our year, but suddenly there was a whole lot of puberty hitting everyone all at once.

It was revolting.

She had all this hair, too, that kept getting in my mouth, and she wore so much makeup that she looked like my great aunt Irma. And these BOOBS — I'm _so_ sorry to go on about them, old boy — but this skank was showing them off ever-so proudly, with her blouse unbuttoned all the way to her fucking belly button, or might as well have been, so I could see right down her top, y'know: all the way to the prissy frills around the edges of her hot pink bra and the bulging flesh of the beasts crammed inside it.

And I felt FUCK ALL.

I guess I got back to that earlier than I expected.

But — I mean — what the hell was wrong with me!? I must have been having some sort of haemorrhage.

And when I say FUCK ALL, I'm talking ABSOLUTELY NOTHING here. NOT - A - FUCKING - THING. Not even the least bit hard, not itched with the slightest desire to do anything, or be anywhere near her, really. She looked liked one of those dollies I used to play with when Bellatrix came over.

That Reggie played with, I mean.

And, y'know, I didn't even bother to avert my eyes, since she was practically THRUSTING them on me anyway. But the thing was, I really couldn't seem to look away. Like a chasm of doom, or the time I gashed my knee open on that loose nail in the shack. It was disgusting and made me want to vomit or faint or something when I looked at it. But I still couldn't stop looking at it.

Yeah, so that was sort of how I felt right now.

* * *

"Sho you gign't fug 'er?" asked Prongs, his mouth dripping toothpaste, as he turned from the bathroom mirror to shoot me a look of utter betrayal.

He was disappointed, the pervert. I suppose he's a tits man, our James.

I was lying on my four poster with my hands behind my head, my knees sticking up. "Who says I didn't fuck 'er?"

Prongs punched his fist into the air and grinned at me stupidly with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. I rolled my eyes. That boy disgusted me sometimes.

I didn't fuck her, of course. But I wasn't about to tell him that. Fucking embarrassing … I couldn't even get HARD, for Merlin's sake. I had ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION, or some shit. For fuck's sake! What the hell was wrong with me!?

I glanced at Moony for help out of habit, then mentally hit myself and turned away into my pillow. In fairness, Moony WOULD be easier to tell these kinds of things to than Prongs, but … nope. I was probably still too ashamed. Somehow, it might have been even more mortifying with Moony, since he would take everything so very SERIOUSLY and want to talk about my FEELINGS or whatever.

Ugh.

I hated feeling. I just liked sex.

Fuck you, my cock.

That guy — Moony, I mean — was sitting on the edge of his bed with his pyjamas all folded neatly on his lap. And yes, I KNOW, I said that I GLANCED, but I definitely stole a bit of a stare if I'm being totally honest. Just I was curious, y'see, since he was all tensed up the way he is whenever he's about to say something, or do something, or something something. Then he stood up, clutching his clothes to his chest, and hovered towards the bathroom door.

Before he even opened his mouth, Prongs jumped back inside, shouted, "Shumboggy in 'ere!" and slammed the door in his face.

I laughed (accidentally) loudly and Moony shot me a quick glower.

I sat up cross-legged in my bed and stretched my arms out, yawning luxuriously and scratching myself. "Merlin, Moony, why can't you just change out here like a man?"

He shuddered a little, and shook his head. "Ah, yes … very _manly_ of you to ask me to undress in front of you," he sighed. Moony always spoke in sighs somehow.

I snorted even though it wasn't really funny in any way whatsoever. Why would I want to see a bloke undress? That's bloody preposterous. I guess that's why it was funny, though — totally as a joke, I mean — so I snorted again with a hint more derision and we glared at each other for a moment. I don't really know why. He pursed his lips and I raised one of my eyebrows because I knew he could never stare me down. And he knew it, too, yet he still tried. That was admirable, alright, but … well, fuck that.

He flicked a strand of hair from his face, and then resigned to turn his back to me and swiftly lift his shirt over his head.

Oi, it's not like I was watching him do it. I'm not a pervert, thank you very much.

I guess big tits just aren't my thing, you know? And should I be worried about that? Eh, no. Of course not, my friend. Mary MacDonald practically had a hunchback since her buzoombas grew in. Now THAT'S unattractive.

Tits in general are fine small, in my opinion. Perky and petite: that's a saying, right? There's nothing wrong with a good pair of knockers, don't get me wrong or anything, but they're just a bit useless, aren't they? They just wobble 'round, and that's supposed to be attractive, somehow? And, anyway, girls just use them like artillery because they know they make a bloke's mind turn to nothing but libido and white noise.

It's annoying. As in it PISSES me OFF.

Yep, I was never a big man for the titties. I don't worry about that, though. Worrying is for ponces like Moony over there.

But … my target pool sure had grown smaller with all this puberty shit going on.

… Wait, why do I sound like a fucking pedophile? I like WOMEN, OK? Grown WOMEN with grown TITTIES that just happen to be … er, pre-pubescent?

No no no — not that — just … _small_. Or, non-existent. Or … f _uck_.

I glanced back at Moony as he pulled his nightshirt over his head and tucked his hair behind his ear without realising it was all messed up in the back. It was getting a little long, I guess, reaching the nape of his neck already. And it's not like I was STARING at his body or anything but I had just happened to notice he was looking a bit skinnier lately. Was the full moon approaching, perhaps? It's bad enough at regular times — his weight, I mean. Moony just never eats or something. You'd think a wolf-baby would eat a family of garden gnomes plus extended cousins for starters, but he hardly eats bloody anything. Not even anything BLOODY. That simply couldn't be normal for a teenage boy, right? I mean, I had caught a glimpse of his ribs sticking out from his side just now, before his shirt hid him again. Made me wanna poke him. Don't ask me why. I always noticed how flat his chest was, come to think of it. Peter had breasts, and James was ever so slightly beefy across the shoulders because of his epic Chaser abilities. I was supposed to be the one with the SUPER FIT BOD, but I dunno. Moony's ridiculously flat chest always made me feel a little inadequate.

It looked … natural.

Pure, or some shit.

Er, I don't know why I thought that, since his body was actually torn up and scarred to shit because of, like, being a werewolf and shit. He was always careful not to show it, though, at least not long enough to be properly _examined_. It's not that I had a fetish for scars or anything, I was just curious. It looked kinda badass, right? And I had only ever managed to sneak a real peek once before. OK, that's not how it sounds. I'm no fucking peeping Tom, OK? AS IF I'd need any more wank material in the first place since it's easy enough to get a girl to do THAT for me around here.

And — wait, it's not like I'd have a dude's scrawny bod in my wank bank to begin with.

Ha. As if.

Why am I talking about this?

…

Oh right! That time I saw Moony in the nip. It was Snivellus' fault really, but in the end I'm thankful. Not in THAT way, of course. Merlin. You see, my dear old boy Moony would've NEVER told us he was a werewolf, I believe, unless we found it out for ourselves. Even though we were totally his best mates. He's a secretive git, y'know. And he was pretty peeved when we DID find out and all. ALL Snivelly's fault, again, I'm telling ya. Wormtail had bolted, Prongs had taken Snivelly to the hospital wing, but I waited it out inside the Whomping Willow until dawn. I guess I just wanted to make sure he was alright, y'know? He looked like he was in bad shape. For a werewolf, I mean. And when I crept up to the shack and found him he was all … nude and shivering and pathetic looking, lying there all alone and dripping in his own — and Merlin knows who else's — blood and spit and sweat. And Merlin knows what else. But I didn't really think it was disgusting, because … well, it was Remus, y'know? So I guess I comforted him, patting his head and the like. And gave him my coat, obviously, because why would I wanna have to look at a naked dude's ass right at that moment? It really wasn't the time. I mean, it's never the time, is it? Even if it WAS Moony. And once he came to and recovered from the shock of being stark naked and caught in the act of, like, being a secretive git and so forth … well, things got pretty sappy so I won't go into it. But he finally figured out that, y'know, we were all there for him as friends and that, really, wasn't it kinda badass being a werewolf anyway? After that he managed to force out a laugh and smile at me through that blood-stained and tear-steamed face, sighing in relief and exhaustion and contentment and — I dunno — in the way only Remus Lupin can sigh. And I remember feeling suddenly rather _glad_ that the others had disappeared, just so me and Remus could share that moment together. It was the kind of moment where you really become aware of someone's place in your heart, if that makes sense. Even for someone as insecure as Moony, who had never seemed to have fully trusted or felt relaxed with me until then, and yet in that brief space of time he was somehow able to become convinced that I had become EVEN CLOSER than just a friend — a BEST friend, if you will.

And seeing that change in his sigh and his smile and his eyes made me so happy that my heart started beating really fast.

Whoa … I actually kinda forgot about all that! It had been awhile since I'd thought of those things. I guess.

But, Merlin, I sure was pure back then! I feel like a sap even thinking about it. These days, I was the biggest pervert going. But I had managed to stay away from blokes, thankfully.

I mean, it's not like I felt THAT close to him then, either. I don't even know why I said that. That's definitely not what I was trying to say.

I'm really not a faggot.

Back in the present, Remus Lupin turned his head slightly to see me staring blatantly at his nipples. His eyebrows contracted in bewilderment.

Well, I wasn't REALLY staring at his nipples, alright? I was just staring into space, and that space just happened to be occupied by his nipples when I came to.

Panicking, I gave him a fake 'you wish' sort of look and made some scornful noises while falling back onto my bed. And then I rolled onto my front, but not for any particular reason or anything.

I really was thinking of weird stuff today.

It was only funny because Moony clearly wasn't wishing for me to stare at his nipples. HA. Yeah. As if! And it's not like I WANTED to stare at them, anyway. I wasn't into that — I wasn't even into REAL tits. Aren't male nipples even more useless, anyway? Though I heard somewhere that some dudes can feel it down THERE if you play with them. I don't know why I hang on to information like that. It's not like I've ever tried.

Seriously.

… Well, all I'll say is that I didn't feel it.

What I'm tryna say is that a guy like Moony — if he WERE a bender — would be pretty lucky if a guy on my level had taken an interest in his nipples. Actually, even if he were STRAIGHT I bet he'd still be lucky. I could show that guy a real great time, I'd say. That's just my level of SKILL. Not that I would enjoy satisfying a man. Not that it'd satisfy me, I mean.

I don't get off on that shit.

Probably.

It's not like I tried, so I wouldn't know.

Not that I WOULD ever try.

Well …

Wait, no, I never would. What?

What the fuck.

I heard him draw the curtains around his four poster, presumably because he was too much of a prude to strip his bottoms off in front of me. Like it would even bother me. NOT THAT I WANTED TO SEE ANYWAY. I mean, I couldn't care less, that's all.

…

What the heck was wrong with me today…

I lay with my face buried in my pillow for a while, my trousers feeling rather uncomfortable.

Why?

None of your fucking business.

OK, so I was sexually frustrated right now.

Because of that P-cup slag from before, not because of Moony.

Who even mentioned Moony?

…

What?

…

Point is, I couldn't get it up with girls right now, so piss off about it already. Gosh.

Prongs was still in the bathroom. Probably wanking. That was all he seemed to do these days, now that Evans was letting him finger her.

What a bitch.

I didn't hear Moony approach until his voice reached me from the end of my bed. "… n't sleep with her."

I turned my head around to see him. He aways stands so uncomfortably, it's kind of irritating. I wish he'd loosen up sometimes. Actually, he probably just needed to get laid.

Not that I want to be the one to do it, I'm just passing a comment. STOP TWISTING MY WORDS, BRAIN.

"Huh?" I asked lazily, rolling onto my back and spreading myself out in a manly fashion.

He cocked one eyebrow at me, and suddenly I got a weird feeling in my stomach. Felt like I wanted to retch. Because the way he was looking at me was like he fucking KNEW. "You didn't sleep with her, did you?"

HE KNEW!

I laughed and scoffed a little, turning my face back into my elbow to hide the warmth now emanating from my cheeks. "What makes you say that?"

I felt the pressure as he sat down at the end of my bed cautiously. He was so careful not to touch me. So bloody annoying. He was like a fucking ghost. He gave a slight sigh. "Because you said, 'Who says I didn't fuck her?' Bit of an ambiguous reply, for one thing. And for another, it's an easy answer, because James would just presume it's as good as saying you did. But really it's totally inconclusive. Evasive, even. Am I wrong?"

I turned my head to the side and sighed conversationally the way HE always did. When the fuck did Moony get so sly? I liked him better when he was terrified of us. Although, he still acted like that a lot of the time. I tried not to look at him as I replied, "… She was pretty vile."

"That's true," he agreed. "I guess she's just … not your type."

"Guess not," I grumbled.

We were both silent for a moment and I was feeling this weird tension that shouldn't have been there at all. And suddenly I was wondering – what the heck was my type anyway?

Usually I just fucked every girl who came on to me, EVEN IF they disgust me. Which is often the case, because desperate girls are SUCH a turn off. And they are ALWAYS desperate when it comes to me.

I'm just hot like that.

I'm in a league of my own here. I'm not even joking.

I lunged at him suddenly, knocking blankets and pillows flying, and grabbed his head — then I stuck my tongue good and deep into his damn ear.

"Ngh!" Moony shoved me off quickly, jumping to his feet and clamping a hand over the side of his head.

As I watched him wince and shudder I felt myself grin. "What's with you keeping tabs on everyone I fuck anyway?" I asked, crossing my legs and lowering my voice with a smirk. "It's fucking creepy."

Moony threw back a glower which made me immediately regret that dumb behaviour. Because Moony's face, which was angry at first, slowly changed to disappointment. There was a little bit of a blush, but he wasn't about to let me get away with this shit. And it WAS bullshit, I'll admit it. I was just like a kid, acting up for attention. But I couldn't help it.

He turned with a sigh and moved to his bed, picking up a glass of water.

My tongue still had the taste of his earwax on it and I just couldn't bear it for some reason.

I slid to the floor and crawled over to him, bowing down at his feet. "I'm sowrry!" I wailed, snuggling my head in his ankles. I wanted to kiss his shoes, I don't know why. I sniffled and cried out, "I'm just angsty because I've got erectile dysfunction and everyone is growing tits!"

Moony literally spat out the water in his mouth, and after a pause he looked down at me with the most shocked expression.

Ahhhh, I said it. WHY DID I SAY IT.

I just let go of him and sat back on my feet, holding his bewildered gaze for a moment.

Well, I guess I'm gonna try pass that one off as a joke.

Luckily, his expression was actually comical enough to make me burst out laughing. Absolutely exploded so I did. Even though I was supremely embarrassed, his reaction was so priceless. And when he tried to laugh he started to choke on the water, and I laughed even harder.

A good long moment passed with us pissing our knickers, me banging my fist on the floorboards and him slowly sinking to the floor on wobbly knees while clutching his mouth. Prongs was still in the bathroom. I guess he wasn't as pent up as I thought.

As our laughter subsided I found myself on my back and Moony beside me on his hands and knees. After a moment of heavy breathing and stifled remnants of giggles, we both looked around and caught each other's eyes somewhat awkwardly.

"Well," I said, rubbing my stomach with a wince and turning my gaze to the ceiling. I guessed I passed that off pretty successfully, if I did say so myself.

Moony sat back into a kneeling position with a little sigh. See? Always sighing, this one. He turned his face away, but eyed me up scrupulously a moment later. "What did you mean by what you just said, Padfoot?"

"Who knows, old boy," I replied with a shrug, reaching out and ruffling up his hair. "Just promise me you'll never grow tits, alright?"

He sniggered a little, hiding his smile. Dammit, Moony. Always so bloody modest. He put his hand to his chest after calming down a little, and grinned widely. "You have my word."


	2. Chapter 2

REMUS

"Y'know, I'm just not interested in girls anymore."

That's a cruel thing, isn't it, for the most handsome boy in Hogwarts to admit to me, his so-deep-in-the-closet-he-practically-lives-in-a-coat-pocket best friend? And crueler still that he followed up the confession with a smirk, after I had already descended deep into a spiral of depraved thoughts masked by a very timely coughing fit, and chuckled, "Now, now — don't get me wrong. It's not like I'm a fucking queer or anything."

Fucking queer. Fucking poof. Fucking faggot. Fucking … fuck me! It was always the same: neither James nor Sirius could ever utter a synonym for homosexual without a sneer and a fucking _fucking_ in front of it. And every time I heard it, I felt like throwing myself off of Gryiffindor tower. An action _that_ melodramatic might just make my point for me.

"What the fuck? That's how it sounds!" roared James in laughter. "Mate, I seriously cannot deal with it if you're a fucking arse bandit!"

Oooh, arse bandit. That's a refreshing one.

"Well, so what if I were?" said Sirius casually. Was that my heart or lungs that I was currently choking on? Both would be rather life-threatening, I suppose. That would make things easier. You know. Being dead. "Not that I am, but —"

"No, no, no, I'm not fallin' for it," sneered James. I was really rather surprised that neither of my friends had noticed my condition right now. Not that my state was ever worth paying attention to, really — I was quite the vanilla of the group — but that was just because I was usually an awful lot better at hiding my homoerotic tendencies. I really was, I swear. "You always give back my Aly Ba-Baps mag all crusty and disgusting. There's no way you're a fucking bender."

That's right, Remus. You heard the man. There's no way — absolutely not! Tits and fannies, that's what normal teenage boys were into. And tits and fannies just seemed to sort of gravitate in the general direction of Sirius' gorgeous face. Was it wrong that it sort of turned me on? I so very badly wanted to see him drowning in dicks and semen.

No, no, no. Pull yourself together, you pathetic gay twat. Sirius was straight. What in the world were you thinking getting your hopes up like that?

Sirius laughed boisterously. "Well, yeah. They're fine for THAT. But these days it's like the effort of getting their panties off is hardly even worth the deed itself. Maybe I'm just getting old."

"You're fifteen, you wanker! This is supposed to be the prime!"

"Well, not for me," said Sirius with a wry grin. "Perhaps I'm better off a wanker, in fairness."

Now, by this point you're probably asking yourself: who is this creature who can so calmly come out with the sorts of things most teenage boys get their heads dunked down toilets for? And he really wasn't embarrassed, you know, not in the least! For what would Sirius Black ever have to be embarrassed about? Ah, well, I seem to have found myself doing an introduction of sorts. My friend Sirius was, incidentally, the most popular boy in school, so he never had any need to be embarrassed about anything. In fact, a lot of the cringiest shit that came off that gorgeous tongue ended up as motivational posters, or the life motto of an entire generation. Sirius Black … ah, me. How could I possibly describe him with my measly words? He was the very epitome of cool, the quintessential homeros and egoism personified.

In common speak, he was sex on legs. But, boy, did he know it.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to detract from his charm. If anything it fanned the bloody flames, and then chucked some petrol on them for good measure. And I say it's unfortunate because it really does seem very unfair to me that he should have so many people hanging on his every move and every word and every trend he whimsically pulled from his hat, when the man himself didn't give a damn about any of that. He was just being himself; his weirdest, most wonderful, most wanker-ish self. If today he swore of sex, he'd swear it off and by Merlin we'd all be wearing iron undies by first bell tomorrow. And if he decided to swing towards homosexual tendencies the day after … well, my own coming out would surely be written off as simply following a fad. I was his biggest fan, after all.

"But I said I didn't find them INTERESTING, didn't I?" he was rabbiting on. "Y'know, as PEOPLE or whatever. I'd rather be spending my time with you lot than some slag fluttering her bloody eyelashes. Gay as it sounds."

"That does sound gay," said James. "And … nope. I'd definitely rather be with a fit girl right now."

"Preferably Evans, I s'pose?" said Sirius, rolling his eyes. Oh, now this was interesting. Sirius hated Lily Evans, James' girlfriend of sorts and long term unrequited love, with such a passion I'd _swear_ he was jealous. He was, right? I mean, he could barely say her name without groaning or calling her a bitch! I had such delicious fantasies about my two friends here, and infinitely more of me 'comforting' Sirius after he was rejected. Because James was straight without a doubt, so it was inevitable, really. I mean, he was a downright homophobe. But Sirius always kept me guessing, even though I knew how silly and hopeless that was. That was just his way; a little flamboyance, a pinch too much physical affection, and a smack load of confidence made for the vaguest of sexualities. But, then again, his history spoke for itself.

Still, Padfoot and Prongs Getting Giddy in the Boys' Dorm was one gay porno I would personally pay my entire life savings to see.

"What a bitch," Sirius grunted. See?! Jealousy, I'm telling you.

"Of course, preferably her," sneered James in response. "And for another thing, you've got your priorities all wrong. Girls don't have to be _interesting,_ you ponce. Just bloody well _willing_ is all I'm asking."

As much as I was enjoying this conversation rife with misogyny — as I'm sure the reader was, too — I really had already stopped listening at that stage. And I had good reason, too, because as James went on and on about the virtue of a girl's banality, Sirius seemed to have phased out for a moment, his eyes softly scanning the sky as he blew out smoke between well-practiced lips. He flicked the ash out the window and glanced down at the butt, pouting for a split second and — _incidentally_ — allowing a stray beam of moonlight the pleasure of falling gently across his face, highlighting his modelesque bone structure and making his entire being seem to glow and sparkle.

That … _that_ was the face I came all over in my dreams.

 _Sigh_.

Yep, moonlight and sunbeams and petals always seemed to be positively _throwing_ themselves across Sirius' person, and reminding me day after day how other worldly and unreachable his beauty really was. Luckily, I had a decent memory. And that particular scene would be stored safely in a locked compartment of my brain only to be removed in the dark of night, underneath the covers with Muffliato cast on the rest of the dorm.

That, or in the shower. I've settled for less.

… I felt so fucking awful about it. I really did.

Sirius shook himself slightly, then brought the ciggy to his mouth again and dragged long and deep. Oh Merlin, how I loved watching him smoke. I watched his eyes follow the trail of smoke rising out into the night air, and then drift over to meet mine. Fag still in his mouth, he smiled a little tight lipped smirk, as if to say, "what a twat, eh?"

But all my mind could translate was, "I want you, Remus."

Yes, yes, I was the worst friend. But I couldn't bloody well help it. I could have written novels about the things I imagined him saying whenever our eyes met like that. And _not_ the kind of novels I'd let my mother read.

I'll admit, things have gotten worse recently. It wasn't always like this, you know. See, it all started out rather innocently, with the bed I chose when I entered the boys' dorm on the first day of first year.

Here it is, folks: the tasteful flashback!

Well, that bed was the only one in the dorm with a window seat, you see, and from that decision everything followed. That first night, while I unpacked and tried not to vomit with nerves, two of the other first year boys descended upon that window seat and began lighting up from a box of cigarettes. And despite it being _my_ window, I really had no intention of denying these cool looking chaps a thing, for fear of being, well, beaten up. Especially not that one there who was smiling so _handsomely_ like that, with hair as thick and black as a raven's feathers and slate grey eyes full of mischief. Oh, how I loathed him. How I wanted to be him, or his friend, perhaps. But these two fellows were out of my league, I knew that already. They would never want to be friends with a wimpy, gawky, introverted child like me. Madame Pomfrey was likely the only friend I'd have here, we'd be bonding on monthly moonlit strolls after all. And perhaps that mousey boy who had been watching the rest of us all this time, eagerly trying to become involved and failing miserably, would band together with me to fight the isolation and the bullies. Better to draw no attention to myself than to attempt to be popular, I thought. I wanted to blend in, not fit in. I really wasn't asking for much.

And yet I was finding myself staring at this dark-haired, good-looking boy as he placed a long dark cigarette in his mouth and pursed his lips around it, his eyes narrowed in mild concentration. My stomach felt weird. Then he removed it, holding it expertly between his fingers, and blew out the smoke with a smirk. He glanced at me — yeah, he really actually glanced at me with his actual beautiful eyes in his actual beautiful face — and my heart felt weird.

And I thought … you know, I mightn't actually _mind_ getting beaten to a pulp by a boy that pretty.

That was a good thing, too, since I rather had it coming from all the staring I was doing.

As he brought the smoke to his lips once again, he faltered a second, still gazing coolly at me. "You don't mind, do you? It's your bedside, after all."

"Pff, of course he doesn't mind," said the boy with glasses. He, I had discovered by eavesdropping on their conversation since we'd all entered the dorm, was the cool one's newly appointed best friend. They had met on the train, and I hated him already. "Right, er … what was your name again?"

"Oh, ah, Remus Lupin," I said, waving my hands quickly as they both suddenly focussed their attention to me. "And go ahead, I really don't mind."

"See?" said the glasses boy quickly, immediately losing interest in me. The other boy just shrugged, and leaned out the window while taking another long drag from the cigarette. Bloody hell, I thought. Stop staring, I told myself. Mind your own bloody business, Remus John Lupin, and keep your sodding head down! But I simply couldn't. His fingers were pale and slender, and he kept having to brush his hair out of his eyes as he leaned over the window to blow the smoke out. He exhaled it expertly through his lips, and while watching him I felt the inexplicable urge to verbalise how cool he looked. Incredibly cool, like some sort of celebrity. I realised that I wasn't about to stop staring anytime soon, and he had without a doubt noticed me do it but didn't seem to think it was weird. He certainly didn't seem like he was about to beat me up or call me a cruel name for it. And as his eyes caught mine again, he raised his eyebrows and offered the fag in my direction.

It took me a moment to realise what was going on, and when I did my mind flew straight into a panic. I had no intention of smoking — and I sure as hell didn't know how to do it! They'd surely realise I'd never done it before and that I was even more of a tosser than I looked — but if I didn't even try it I'd look a downright muppet! Oh Merlin, I was taking too long to react, so I instinctively smiled and leaned forward to take the cigarette in my shaking fingers. Oh dear, I touched his hand. My body was hot. Smiling nervously up at them, I placed my lips around it and attempted to puff.

"This four-eyes here is James Potter. And I'm Sirius Black," said the handsome one, offering me his hand. I fumbled with the cigarette to free up my hand to shake it. I had no idea why I was so _sweaty_. But my heart was beating unnaturally fast.

And I touched his hand again … practically held it, so I did. Oh dear. I couldn't breathe at all.

After letting go, he snatched the cigarette from my hands with a grin.

"I'm R-Remus Lupin," I choked, smoke bursting out of my mouth. I coughed, eyes watering, and turned back to my bed to hide my blushing face. Oh, wow. I had _literally_ forgotten to breathe.

"You said that already," sniggered Potter, and I blushed harder. As I glanced around, I saw Black smile easily, leaning against the wall with a slight sigh.

Oh dear. I could have gone back to my unpacking, but for some reason I had lost all interest in everything but Sirius Black. Say something, Remus. Anything, or you'll lose the chance to keep hearing his voice. Well, not _anything_. Don't break into song or talk about Daleks. Something interesting, if possible. Nope, it had gone on too long, so better just say anything and hope for the best. "Sirius — like the star?" I asked suddenly, baffled at my own social prowess.

"Huh?" said Potter.

"Hm?" said Black.

"Oh, er, Sirius is a star, you see," I said, instantly regretting this sudden burst of confidence. But somehow, I couldn't stop, either. "The Dog Star, it's called. Because of its location in Canis Major. Oh—" I moved to the window, staring out at the night sky. "It's that one there! You see Orion's belt — those three stars close together in a diagonal line? — follow those down and there you — I mean, there _it_ — is." I looked around, and found blank faces watching me. I laughed nervously. "It's the brightest star in the sky."

"Cool," said Black, and I felt my heart begin to tremor. He threw an arm around my shoulder and blew smoke into my face. "Woof! Woof!"

I coughed on the smoke and fell away from him, feeling wholly alarmed, but when I saw his laughing face I couldn't help but join in a little. And suddenly I was hanging my head because I was smiling like crazy and I couldn't seem to look at his face.

 _Cool_. This person called _me_ cool? I think I floated on a cloud for the next … ah, forever?

Potter was laughing it off already, as I fled to my bed with my face growing very warm. "Yeah, I'll be borrowing your astronomy notes, Lupin!"

Back then, I didn't understand what I was feeling when my heart beat so unbearably fast as he smiled at me like that. I couldn't comprehend why my neck and hands had gotten so hot and sweaty from just standing near him to point out a star. I had a slight inkling when he touched me … And later that night, when I caught a glimpse of him changing out of his robes. His skin was so pale, so smooth, and he was slender as anything; but his waist, shoulders, legs and arms were all undeniably, _unbearably_ male _._ And _masculine_ — oh, _Merlin —_ so very, _very_ masculine. And yet I couldn't help but amaze at how beautiful … handsome … elegant he was.

It embarrassed me. I didn't know why.

But it became clear rather quickly. That first night in the boys' dorm of Gryffindor tower, I had a wet dream about one of my classmates. And it was a guy, to boot.

So, yes, that's how I found out I was gay. I liked men. I liked their narrow hips and their slim chests and their broad shoulders, their veined forearms, rough hands, their knobbly knees and lean ankles. I liked them when they were somewhat toned without training, slender without trying, just naturally perfect … like the way Sirius was, for example. I liked their hair, all of it, the more the merrier. Especially dark hair, like Sirius', and when their eyes were bright and pale. I liked their smiles. Sirius had a great smile, you know. And their skin. I liked … er, how they look in shorts and so forth.

And ever since then I had been somewhat obsessed with Sirius Black.

Maybe you're wondering what it's like to be fanatical about someone so close to you. We were friends, after all, me and Sirius. Best friends, he would say. And yet I was highly aware of him and every face he had and every mole I could see embellishing his alabaster skin, and I had to make efforts not to ogle him _too_ much and to not get _too_ aroused when my thoughts ran away from me. And, obviously, I had to make sure he never found out I was gay. It would gross him out if he knew. It would gross most people out, so I would just have to remain celibate for literally my entire life.

Well, that was fine. It was _manageable_. It wasn't like I could settle for any old knob, anyway.

In the beginning I really was content just being around him. Looking at him. At his beautiful beauty. And touching him, occasionally, but only in friendly affectionate ways of course. But then the urges grew and that wasn't enough anymore, so I began fantasising. And the longer I knew him, the more obvious it became that I had absolutely no hope in the nine planes of hell of _ever_ living out even my chastest daydreams. So they got smuttier, and steamier, and sicker.

You know, I think I might be a sadist?

Now, back in the present, Sirius smiled slightly, squinting up at the stars, and then turned to me with that same smile as he offered me the cigarette. I wondered if he remembered that night when he reached out to me, shared a smoke with me and let a carefree arm wrap around my shoulders. It was the first time in my life I had enjoyed that gentle teasing between friends, and I felt so happy to be accepted I could hardly contain it. And it made me happy that he was a good person. Mostly, I liked that _he_ seemed to like _me_. And he was never afraid to show it. But, in all honesty, Sirius probably never even thought twice about it. Maybe he didn't even remember. Nevertheless, he really changed my life that day.

If you're feeling sorry for me now: do yourself a favour and don't. Maybe it's a little tragic, an unrequited love with one's straight best friend. But this was all on me, dear reader. I owed him so much, and yet every hour of every day I betrayed him with these lustful feelings. Sirius was such a loyal person, and yet I got close to him, confided in him, returned his friendship only — and I say _only_ — because I was attracted to him. That's all it was, after all: attraction. I said he was a good person, and at the time I believed that to be true. But he wasn't always. He could be cruel and dumb and narcissistic. He wasn't a prince charming; in fact, he wasn't even very dateable.

Well, mostly, that was because Sirius Black did not date. But, either way, it wasn't like I was in love with him. There would be no point in that. It was a perverse desire, nothing more.

"… Right, Moony?"

"Ah, what?" I asked snapping back to the present.

Sirius sniggered. "I was just saying that you're the same, right? There're more interesting things in life than chasing skirts. You've never had a girlfriend, have you?"

"Er, well, no," I said, smoothing my fringe down over my eyes to hide my complete shame.

"Hear, hear, old boy! I swear, if you call her your girlfriend you'll only be waiting longer to get any of the stuff a girlfriend can give you. But if you don't call her ANYTHING, she'll be so eager to get you there she'll do anything ya bloody ask her to."

"That's awful," I said, because it was. Sirius was as mysoginistic as James was homophobic. But I wasn't a girl, so I didn't really care what he believed about girlfriends. Not enough to defend them, anyway. He could just call me when he started talking about boyfriends …

"Hold on a sec now," James butt in, "but yourself and Moony are single for two ENTIRELY different reasons."

"Oi oi oi!" shouted Sirius, grabbing me my the shoulder as I attempted to escape back to my four poster. "Don't go putting our Moony in the same boat as a speccy-eyed twat like you. This handsome fella? No way!" He ruffled my hair, and I tried to push him away. But he just grappled me and kept me in a tight headlock of a hug. "As for me, you can't beat ten thousand years of inbreeding. But _he's_ got battle scars and everything. _Sexy!_ "

"You're not funny, Sirius," I said, laughing a little nervously and managing to break out of his grip. He huffed a little as I went to my bed.

"I wasn't being funny," he replied. I turned to see him with his legs crossed broadly, his entire posture an invitation as he stared me down with cool eyes. "With a bit of confidence I'd say you'd turn into a right beast."

"If only you knew," I laughed gently.

"What the fuck is this faggotry?" laughed James. "Why don't ya give 'im a kiss, Padfoot?"

Sirius laughed, and then without warning leapt at me. For a moment we screamed and struggled, and then he managed to pin me down and began licking all over my face like a dog. I could hear laughter, and I could hear my own cries of resistance. But mostly I could hear those wet sounds, and the sound of my blood rushing to the outer layers of my skin … along with other places I'd rather not mention.

"GET OFF!" I yelled, and finally managed to shove Sirius off me. He fell to the ground, and looked up at me, blinking. Since it was Sirius, he was laughing again a second later.

Oh, I _really_ hated him sometimes.

I found my feet. "That's disgusting," I said. I couldn't bring myself to look at Sirius.

"Too right," said James. Yes, let's all be homophobes. Better that than the other thing, right?

Sirius had stopped laughing anyway. That was good. He laughed too easily and too trivially and too cruelly most of the time. I cleared my throat a little, and dusted myself down. Oh, Merlin, I could smell his spit. And I was getting a bloody erection. "Well, I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"'Night!"

"Goodnight, _Remus_."

I walked to the bathroom door, clenching my teeth. Sirius always most artfully chose when to discard my nickname.

I could still hear them chatting after I shut and locked the bathroom door, and crumpled over the sink. My heart was beating so fast I thought I might get sick, and the sensation of his licking still vivid in my mind with the wet smeared on my face. I touched my cheek, stifling a groan as I felt the moistness and a shudder down my spine and into my hips.

Believe me, dear reader: the word love cannot be used to describe my feelings for my good friend Sirius. Love was too sweet and kind and gentle a word. If I loved him, I wouldn't want to hurt him. I wouldn't want to betray him. I wouldn't use his own innocently meant bodily fluids as lubricant while jerking off to the thoughts of pinning him down, and … and …

Fuck. But I wanted that, exactly that. I wanted to hold him down or tie him up and carve myself into his body, forcing him to feel me, to take responsibility and impose on him this maddening, insatiable lust I felt every minute of every hour I spent with him. Sometimes I imagined making him feel so good that he'd become addicted to me and crave me like a drug. Sometimes I thought I could make it hurt so much he'd break into pieces, for then I could put him back together however I pleased. Either way, I wanted to do it over and over until he couldn't do it with girls anymore, to abuse him until he couldn't do it with _anyone_ anymore, no one but me. I wanted him to be mine, all mine, no matter how. Forever mine, until it killed him.

And you know what else? After all that horrid behaviour … _I wanted to pretend it was love_.

Thank God I was a coward, or maybe I would have done it already. So if you're still rooting for me, you may want to rethink your position.

… Unless you're a sadist, too, in which case I'll need all the support I can get!


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, it makes me so happy to read them :D This chapter went super long, so soz about that. Hope you enjoy it anyway cuz I had a LOT of fun writing it.**

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SIRIUS

"yOu wiLL FiNd tHE anSwER To yOuR pRoBLem iN tHe lASt sTaLL oF tHE THiRd fLOoR tOiLEtS

fRoM — a fRiENd"

OK, look here. I just wanna get this straight: I'm not unused to getting love letters, believe you me. But this one was kinda different. I mean, just LOOK at that. Yeah, go back a line and have a li'l reread of that for me. The ANSWER to my PROBLEM, they said. Who knows who THEY are, or what the bloody hell they meant by that rando piece of slightly less than reliable information. Not to mention, it was written in godamn newspaper clippings and about as vague as ol' Al Dumby's sexuality.

I'm talking SUPER suspish here.

But, you know what? I WENT to that last stall of the third floor toilets. Oh I went there, old boy. And you know what I found, in the grimiest, most abandoned corner of male hygiene in Hogwarts?

A fucking glory hole.

I MEAN REALLY.

 _Really?_

… Merlin save me.

OK, OK, so a part of me was disgusted. I mean, what a fucking joke! I wasn't a fucking nancy boy, I'll tell you that now. But I guess another part of me — a very fucking tiny part, like a real minuscule fucking part, I'm sure — was just a teeny weeny bit curious. Just the slightest bit, y'know? It was all so secretive and totally intriguing, right? RIGHT? Well, fuck you. It was. It was 'cause I said it was. Get over it already. We're fucking doing this. But I didn't feel safe going back there alone — I mean, I really didn't feel like getting gang-raped by homos while I was still a gay-virgin, ya know? — so the next time I went to investigate I dragged Moony along with me.

Made sense, at the time, OK?

So there we were: myself and Moony crammed into a cubicle together, staring at this manky looking hole cut out of the wall. And I could pretty much imagine how it would go down, y'know. Not with HIM necessarily, I mean, just with anyone. Any guy. Because that's what it meant, I guess, doing those kinds of things with a guy. I didn't know. But I could imagine.

Not like I was fantasising or anything, though. Not REALLY. I was just saying, I knew what the fuck I was considering here.

And yet here I bloody well was.

Moony sure was blinking a lot. He'd glance at me, then blink about three thousand times as he glanced back at the hole, blink a little more, and then totally screw his eyes shut as he turned back to me. "Er … why?" he asked, cracking his eyes open and meeting mine as if pained him greatly.

"WHY?" I cried. "My dear boy, I wanna know what the FUCK possessed someone to lead me to a place like this!" I shoved the letter back into his face. "Did you see what they wrote? The ANSWER to my PROBLEMS! They mean my impotence! I'm tellin' ya!"

"Wait — _Sirius_ ," he choked, holding his hand up to his face. "I really don't think it's that. It's probably just a _prank_."

"A prank?" I repeated loudly. "Who the fuck would dare prank ME? And with fucking HOMO shit? Not bloody likely!"

"Er," he said.

"Well, MAYBE," I went on thoughtfully. "But it's MORE bloody likely that the Hogwarts homos have discovered my little problem and wanna give me a hand … or a HEAD." I sniggered. "If ya get my meaning."

I mean, who wouldn't wanna suck my dick? No one, that's who. Even I'd suck me off, if I could. Which I can't, y'know. And, yeah, I tried once or twice. What guy hasn't? Fucking fell off my bed trying, so I did. Got my foot caught in the hangings of my four poster and ripped them right off the frame and everything. Actually, I think it was Moony who heard the crash and ran upstairs to find me lying dick out on the floor in a pile of curtains, proper concussed after bashing me noggin off Wormy's trunk.

Shit, that was fucking hilarious. As the story goes, I mean. I actually remember fuck all after I hit my head.

"Er …" he said, blushing quite openly now and averting his eyes.

I gripped his arm. "I'm serious, Remus. You'd never believe how many guys in this school want a piece of THIS. I've had blokes come on to me, too." I stopped. "Come ON to me. Not cum ONTO me. Ha, fuck! But I never tried it, for whatever reason. So, like … what do you think?"

Moony's face split in panic. "Wha — what do you mean what do I think?" he yelped, ripping his arm out of my grip and shrinking away to the back of the stall.

"DO YOU THINK I COULD GET OFF WITH A BLOKE?" I screamed.

My voice somewhat echoed in the grimy toilet. Moony stared at me, wide-eyed, for a long moment as I set my face as seriously as I was able. This fancy face had its merits, but sincerity was not one of them. But somehow he still seemed to ease up and consider things, although averting his gaze and hiding his eyes beneath his fringe. "Er, a — a bloke, you say …"

"Merlin, Moony. Yes, a BLOKE. I've been repulsed by girls recently, so I'm thinking: what if I'm actually gay or something?"

Moony put his hand to his mouth again like he might get sick. "Sirius … you can't …"

My foot started to tap in frustration. "Eh? Can't what?"

He shook his head violently, his face a full flush. "You — you can't just wake up one day and decide you're gay! Have you even thought about this?"

"Of COURSE I have," I said. "You know how seriously I take my cock, mate." I raised an eyebrow. "Er, did that come out wrong?"

Moony laughed a little shrilly. "So, you'd …?" He glanced furtively at the hole in the wall. " _Really?_ "

I sighed in thought. "Well, it's not like I could SEE the dude through this anyway, or even KNOW it's a dude. And if it's just to get off …"

"Yes, very w-well … but the i-idea would suggest a certain amount of reciprocation, wouldn't it? Er, I really don't know, I mean …"

"Hm," I said. "I'll have to think about it then. Not sure I could suck a bloke off." I shoved my hands into my pockets, and glanced at the hole again.

I definitely could, though. I'm not a fucking pansy.

"But let's JUST SAY I could …" I began slowly. "It's just fucking, isn't it? I can do it with guys or girls if I want. Or fucking both, that'd be epic. But if I wanna try it with just a bloke, why can't I?"

He was doing that blinking thing again and his cheeks were glowing warm. "I just … I just …" He moved his mouth like a fish for a bit, then just pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"You just what?" He just shook his head again, folding his arms and avoiding eye contact. I sighed, leaning against the stall door and copying his crossed arms. "Y'know, Remus, I brought YOU along today because I thought you'd have a bit more of an open mind, y'know? Are you some kind of homophobe or something, eh? What the fuck?"

He actually got redder, if that were possible, and his stammer increased. "Ah — I'm n-not a homophobe, you b-bloody idiot!"

"Then what?" I asked coolly.

He faltered, closed his mouth, and turned to the wall. He put his hand to his mouth, and kept up that bloody blinking. His eyes were wide, and fucking shiny too, I noticed.

What the fuck was that about?

"Bloody hell … Remus, are you—?" I reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled back, shooting me a look like a wolf in a corner. I'm not sure why it was a wolf, since I'd have to be a bloody elephant to make a wolf feel cornered. But Remus was always a badass wolf, at least in my mind. And wolves can be sensitive too, y'know. Probably, anyway. "—Crying?" I finished weakly, as it quickly became obvious. He shuddered a little, and the tears spilled down his cheeks fast and, er, wet.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "Fuck. Why are you crying? I'm so sorry."

I didn't know how it happened, but making Moony cry made me feel fucking awful. The poor chap had enough shit going on without me making his life any more difficult.

I really was a nice guy, y'know. To my mates, anyway. Well, to Moony mostly. Prongs was a prick and Wormy a fucking dodo. But I was nice to Remus. Like, almost all of the time.

He shook his head, his lips pressed tight together. And because I was such a nice guy I just waited patiently for him to tell me what the fuck he was getting so worked up about, apologising every so often and asking to be forgiven. I waited while he cried his girly little tears and handed him loo roll to blow his bogeys, which in all honesty, were many. I waited while he soothed himself, then burst into tears all over again, then calmed once more.

And then I kept waiting.

At this point, I gotta point out again how NICE I was being. I was a bloody saint, y'know. But I told you already — I fucking told you, two seconds ago, you fucking stupid readers — that I was nice to Remus. Right?

There was something else, though, wasn't there? But what? What was it I said, again?

ALMOST.

ALMOST ALL OF THE TIME.

And I WAS nice, OK? But I never said I was fucking patient. Because about that time I was struggling to forget that I was the one with a broken cock and I was just getting totally fucking pissed again.

"I thought you'd at least understand," I said, without knowing why that was true. "I dunno. I mean, wouldn't you accept me if I was a queer?" His eyes widened at the ground, and I was feeling equally bashful and sick. "I'd do the same for you, mate."

He laughed wetly, and then the laughed turned into a sob. He dropped his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking.

I really felt like I was missing something here. I reached up and gave him a nice little pat on the arm. So nice. I was so fucking nice.

"You're s-s-such a b-bloody idiot, Sirius," he stammered finally. He looked up, sniffling and gasping for breath, and looked like he was about to say something.

But then he didn't.

I really wanted to murder this boy.

"Yeah, I am an idiot, aren't I?" I laughed edgily. "But I can't understand unless you tell me, eh?"

He examined my face for a fleeting second, then gave a great big gulp and looked away. I smiled a little uncertainly, and reached up to pat his hair instead. That was, like, a thing I did sometimes on the back-end of his wolfy transformations. Dunno how that started, but it seemed to calm him down or whatever, while he was still half a wolf, I mean. But at the same time, I liked to imagine that even as a human he was really that simple; so straightforward as to feel reassured by having his head petted like a bloody animal. I knew I sure was. But my touch made him shudder, and he looked up to meet my eyes, blinking back those damn tears that I wanted to burn out of his blasted skull. And I wasn't sure what bugged me more, y'know: the waiting, or knowing that he was in pain and I had no way of fucking helping him.

Ah, guys. So I WAS just a good friend in the end! So NICE. You gotta love me.

I was smiling a little at my own internal monologue — because, well, I'm fucking hilarious — and gazing at Moony absentmindedly, when I noticed a change in the air. For the first time I noticed how heavy his breathing was, so obvious at this proximity. And as we looked at each other, Moony's eyebrows suddenly raised up expectantly, an anxiety shining in his eyes. Not to mention his heaving chest, and those slightly parted lips. But it didn't seem to be from crying, not with the way he was looking at me right now. His eyes ran all over my face, and then he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His eyes rose and widened as they locked with mine.

A chill ran down my spine.

I had seen this look before. Like, a lot. And my smile slowly faded.

Moony's eyebrows crinkled up in panic. My hand that was patting his head awkwardly now seemed an awful lot more like a caress, or some shit. It moved, apparently of its own accord, to wipe some of the wet from his cheek, and as it did his breathing, trembling, eye contact — literally EVERYTHING, is what I'm saying — just everything intensified. And since I was just a simple sort of guy with simple sorts of impulses in response to simple sorts of stimuli, I couldn't just walk away from that fucking look.

So I kissed him.

Yep, I looked my best mate right in the eye as I leaned in and planted a firm kiss on his totally-asking-for-it lips. And they were wet with his tears, and somewhat chapped, and definitely the kind of lips I imagined a guy having. Y'know, like MANLY ASS lips, or something. And yet I really didn't hate it. Well, I already knew I was open to such things, but here was the real deal and I didn't feel in ANY way disgusted. And when it was over — when I pulled away and opened my eyes and tasted only the memory — I knew immediately that I'd do it again. I WANTED to, I mean. I'd do it again that very second, if he'd let me.

Although, judging by the noise he made, my poor old friend Remus was in no fit state to do THAT again. He squeaked a little and clamped his hand over his mouth, pushing me back and holding me at arm's length. His eyes were wide and panicked.

And, y'know, I really liked that timidity in him. So frigging cute, or something.

"Sorry," I said again, just for good measure, I guess. I felt a smirk coming on, but I resisted. Surely now was not the time to be a smug ass bastard. "I guess I didn't need you to tell me, after all."

OK, scratch that. I was ALWAYS smug.

Moony was now hyperventilating.

"Hit the nail on the head, didn't I?" I sighed contently. "I may be an idiot but I know that look." He didn't shake his head or anything, so I went on as if it were true. Which it quite obviously was, I mean, he was acting like some arse-faced girl who couldn't believe her bloody luck. Now: how could I convince him to move his godamn hand so I could get even luckier? "Well, it's not such a big deal is it, kissing a bloke?" He squeaked again, his eyebrows contracting is disagreement. Still couldn't meet my eyes, the incredible fairy. Oh my Merlin, he really was though. I smirked, feeling like the biggest hotshot motherfucker in the whole of north Great Britain. "So, you gonna move your hand and fucking talk to me? I won't kiss you again, unless you want me to." I laughed. "Which you PROBABLY do. That's just the vibe I'm getting, y'know. A queer sort of feeling. A gay atmosphere. Merry, I mean. An AMBIANCE, if you will."

"Not—" he squeaked.

"Not what?" I asked. "A homo?"

He shook his head rapidly.

"Oh come ON, Moony. At least TRY to look grossed out if you're gonna pretend you're not a fucking bender."

Remus made a noise like I punched him in the gut, which I kinda felt like doing, in fairness. Why wouldn't he just admit it, so I could touch him more? HE WANTED IT. I WANTED IT. LET'S GET FUCKING TO IT. But it made him finally drop his hand, at least, and he collapsed onto the toilet seat before I could even attempt to make another move.

"Merlin," he gasped.

"Say it," I said.

"Say what?" he asked, glancing up at me with the quivering smile of a man who had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.

I glared at him, unamused. "Tell me that you're, y'know … a friend of Dorothy? I wanna set this in stone, alright, so things don't get fucking weird."

"Things are already weird," he laughed lightly.

I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to bloody look at me. "Remus. Are you fucking gay or what?"

"I'm—" he started, then swallowed thickly. He gazed about desperately and then threw up his hands, really avoiding my eye contact pretty damn well, the fruitcake. "N-no."

"No? So you're NOT gay?"

"No," he said again, his voice a little too high. "Shit," he muttered. "Y-yy—yes. Yes. Fuck. Yes, OK?"

"Yes what?"

He grit his teeth, finally looking up at me. "Oh, don't make me, Sirius."

I grinned. "It'll make you feel better," I egged him on. I'll admit, there was a smidge too much spirit in my voice.

He blew air out through his mouth, and inhaled deeply. "I'm … I'm —" He choked, glanced up shyly at me, and then turned into the wall and cupped his hand to his mouth. "… _Ngh._ "

"I couldn't hear you," I said.

"Gay," he said, turning to me. "Gay, OK? I'm gay, Sirius. I'm fucking gay."

"You're a poof?" I asked, feigning shock.

"I am a poof."

"A dandy!?"

"Yes, yes, I'm a dandy."

"A limp wristed, shirt lifting, donut munching … sausage jockey?!"

Remus glared at me for a long moment, and I swear his mouth twitched. Was that the hint of a smile, my friend? Oh, you bet it fucking was! Then he just rolled his eyes, and turned towards the wall while rubbing his neck.

"You're …" I gasped. "A backgammon player?"

"Are you done?" he sighed.

"Not even nearly!" I sang. Now, I dunno why but I was REALLY excited. I guess I've been saying that for awhile now, but really I was just building up to that confession. And, oh Merlin did I feel ecstatic. Heart beating fast, weak knees, the whole shebang. This was like, a super huge moment, I guess. And as Remus shrunk into himself and covered his quickly reddening face, all I could do was smile.

I touched his hair again, and he tensed. "Thanks, old friend," I said, crouching to my knees. He tried to avoid me, but I was like right there in front of his face so eventually he kinda had to look at me.

Oh, boy. I had the giggles.

He glanced at me through the corner of his eyes and groaned. "Why are you so amused?" he sighed. "Can't you just abuse me and get it over with?"

"Abuse you? Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because," he said, his voice somewhat strangled, "I'm a fucking faggot …"

I had to stop myself bursting out in laughter. Actually, I didn't try that hard. "So what? So am I! Welcome to the fucking club, and so forth!"

"Sirius, you're _not_ … absolutely … _can't_ be serious …"

"I am, literally, Sirius. It's a fucking coincidence, right? Well, I'm more bisexual than a full-on raging homo, I s'pose. Actually, I'd fuck anything that moves so I guess I'm omnisexual. Or just sexual, or something. Have you fucked a bloke before? Are you a virgin?" I gasped. "Was that your first kiss?"

"No," he said slowly. He blinked a little. "Sorry, I don't understand what's going on. Are you making fun of me or not?"

"Why would I make fun of you?" He stared at me, like pretending to be Captain Obvious or some shit. And I was, like, super not buying it. "Remus," I said sadly, "you didn't think I'd care, did you?"

Our eyes met for a long moment. "I … don't know," he said, laughing a little.

"C'mon, mate," I groaned. "Am I such a bad friend?"

"No," he said breathily, "no, not at all."

I stood up, and he came up with me. He was watching my face now in some sort of awe, like I had just turned the bloody piss on the floor into wine. I didn't really get it. What the fuck was the big deal? The BIG deal was the fact that he had kept ANOTHER secret from me all these fucking years. First the wolfiness, now THIS?

Yeah … somewhere that little piece of betrayal was niggling under my skin.

But I could ignore it. Yeah, I'd let that go.

For now.

I reached up and wiped a tear streak from his scarred face. His eyes widened, and his hand twitched like he wanted to touch me back, somehow, maybe.

Or maybe I was just hoping it.

Well, Remus was never one for physical affection, but I sure as hell was! "C'mere," I said, grinning, and opened my arms. He squirmed a little, but stepped up like a man to hug his best mate. And I didn't give a shit if he was awkward, I didn't fucking care because it was adorable seeing him acting all coy. And I just really liked hugging him. Not for any reason or anything.

Manly hugs are just the best, y'know? Real strong-like, real fucking tight if you get me. And hugging Moony was always the best because … well, I dunno why. I always had a soft spot for the guy. Apparently, now I had a bit of a hard spot, too. Don't look at me like that, OK? It was PROBABLY just the whole filthy locale and the fact that his embrace was so earnest and grateful and fucking tight as hell. Most likely. I was getting turned on, because, well, I could just imagine turning this kind of hug into a good ol' snog. Y'know, the hug 'em and snog 'em on the way out kinda deal. I'm just saying, that was kinda the mood right now. I think he was smelling me and all, like he had his face pressed right into my chest and he was sighing all contently and whatnot. When you can hear a lot of breathing going on during a hug, you know shit is either heating up or you gotta sit down and re-oxygenate 'cause you just ran across a fucking meadow for each other, man.

And it was only dawning on me now: I mean, I was the fucking hottest guy in school, and Moony was a fucking homo. Ergo, the fool was probably arse over tits in love with me anyway!

At the very least, he wanted to fuck me. As I have made abundantly clear already: who the fuck wouldn't?

This shit was in the bag, guys. This was so much easier that I though it would be. And I really didn't think it'd be all that hard.

I held him close and really got my fingers all twisted up into his clothes, feeling his skinny shoulders through his jumper and everything. And Remus was taller than me, y'know. I never told you that but it's true. I used to be taller, I fucking swear; I was tallest in our year back in the day, 'til lanky dudes like him starting catching up with me. I felt so fucking inadequate at the time. But then again, right now it felt kinda exciting to be the shorter one. Like … as if I were the girl in this shindig. Or some shit.

What a fucking trip.

Eh, but someone had to be, right? How did fags even decide that shit? I was older than him, I mean. And the more experienced. Not with butt stuff, though. Probably. Well, except that one time this girl was licking my taint during a wank and accidentally gave me a rimjob. All the same, it's not like it ever really counted. It's not like it happened again or anything.

Despite me asking.

Girls just aren't into butt stuff, apparently. Not MY butt, anyway. I wasn't THAT interested in my butt either, to be fair.

Even though I came and all.

Fuck that bitch, anyway. I'd choose a 69 with my buddy Moony here anyday.

Actually. I think I'd choose that everyday.

But that's something we can figure out later. I guess. Right now I just wanted to get naked and sweaty and get his mouth on my boner, at the very least. Or my mouth on his. I was open to that. I was well open. I was wide fucking open.

So I opened my eyes to look around — being considerate as fuck, and quickly calculating if he'd really wanna have his first time in a crappy toilet that smelled like piss and shit had a baby and then RAPED the baby to have even MORE babies that were fucking deformed versions of all the PISS and SHIT that went into them — and then I saw it.

Oh, my dear readers. Prepare yourselves. This is the part where I wet my fucking pants.

There was a dick. There was a dick poking through the glory hole. There was a gigantic curved man cock hard as a fucking rock sticking through, almost fucking stabbing us, so it was.

I pressed my face into Remus' shoulder and choked myself in suppressed laughter and screams as silently as I could, then nudged him gently.

"Moony," I whispered close to his ear, sniggering and snorting and clinging onto him as my legs threatened to give way, "Moony — pfffff — I think we have some, er, company …"

"Huh?" he sighed, pulling away from me quickly. I turned him around and nodded down … and DOWN. "Wh—!" Remus yelped a little, and I snotted myself further, clamping a hand over his mouth and almost CRYING I was laughing so hard. I really thought my legs were gonna give in.

I nodded in the direction of the dick, raising my eyebrows suggestively and leaning in to whisper in his ear again. Real close, like. Like close as you can get without snogging his bloody eardrum. "You feel like it?"

He punched me. Hysterically, I clung to him laughing as he clambered with the lock, finally flinging it open and we both bolted for our lives and respective virginities out of that ganky third floor toilet.

I grabbed his hand as we ran, and I yipped and yelped like a dog let off its leash — which I practically was, y'know, just 'cause I'm me. Laughing breathlessly, we sprinted down the corridor to the fucking nearest shortcut we could find, skid inside and crammed ourselves in between the narrow walls, practically embracing for space and holding the other up from rolling on the floor laughing, echoing up the passage with our pants and our hysterics. I tickled him a little and he squealed in delight, wrestling back with me. Our grins grew even broader when our eyes met, and our foreheads came together as we grappled, and I lost myself all over again.

Oh Merlin. I felt kinda high or something. I didn't wanna catch my breath. It was oxygen depravation, or something. Asphyxiation, or whatever the hell it is. Or is that just what it's called during sex?

Was this really any different, anyway?

I didn't know and I didn't care. But I was horny as hell, so I swallowed my spit and looked him deep in the eye with the lustiest expression I could muster. He could take a hint, couldn't he? Since he was another dude I didn't really see why I had to make all the fucking moves.

Remus was breathing so hard he could have been coming down off an orgasm. And his eyes ran all over my face, looking as lewd as I felt … but then he just grit his fucking teeth and looked away with an embarrassed little smile.

Moony always was a fucking coward.

I stared up at his face for a moment, feeling oddly helpless, then backed away into the wall. I leaned my head back against the wall and watched him closely, inhaling slowly without really seeming to breathe. A few seconds passed, and he glanced back at me, a slight smile itching at his mouth.

What the fuck was that? I glared back at him. Can you even BELIEVE that? I mean, what a fucking tease!

Or just a fucking coward. I'm telling ya. Or both. What a terrible combination.

Fuck me. It worked, though.

"We should put that hole in on the map," I said. "That's vital information, that is."

"Ah — absolutely not!"

"Or maybe you already knew about it. For all I know you're a right SLUT."

He laughed a little, with an edge of nervousness. "Oh — no. Nothing like that."

"So you're a virgin?" I straightened up and took a little step closer. Just a little one, OK? Except that the passage was so small that it already closed the distance. Moony exhaled a little, but apparently he had nothing to say. I flexed my fingers restlessly. "Actually, I think that's the first time I've seen another stiffy, too. Pretty huge, eh? Even I was tempted."

"Eh?" asked Remus, his smile tightening. I must have been going crazy. But my breathing wouldn't slow down at all.

"Did it turn you on?" I muttered, placing my hand on the wall beside his head.

"E- _eh_?" he repeated, his face like a scared rabbit, as I swiftly grabbed him and seized his lips again with my mouth. He gasped, his body shrinking against the wall as I forced my tongue inside, gripping him by the hair and pulling his face up against mine. He grunted and groaned in resistance, but after a moment his tongue seemed to be responding pretty damn eagerly.

Ahh, I was snogging Remus. I was snogging a bloke. I fucking loved it. I felt so dirty. I felt so naughty. I felt — _I felt really fucking hard._

For about three seconds. Then —

 _Smack!_

I recoiled, panting, and looked around to find Remus cowering, his face glowing furiously.

"Don't mess around!" he gasped. His voice was a pitch too high. "That was — that was too far!"

"I wasn't messing," I said. "I was Sirius."

He ignored the pun. Damn, that one always got at least an eye roll. "What the — then _why_?"

I raised my hand to my cheek, glaring at him. "Who knows? I just had the urge. And that really fucking hurt, y'know."

"Well … w-well, I'm sorry, but … b-but you have to control your bloody urges, Sirius!" His eyes widened suddenly, and he lifted the back of his hand to his lips with a horrified expression.

I felt like being evil. I didn't know why. I felt really mad. And scared. And awful, in general.

"Didn't you like it?" I asked. I took a step closer and glared at him with my best casually seductive eyes. I knew I was a good kisser, there was no question about it. Remus was probably creaming himself already.

Or, jizzing himself, I guess.

"I—" he began, shaking like a bloody leaf.

"Fuck me," I said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him up against me. "Let's do it. Let me be your first—"

I tried to kiss him again, but he shoved me so hard I stumbled and fell onto the dusty passage floor.

When I looked up, he had this really horrified expression on his face. He gazed down at me, chest rising and falling rapidly. "No," he said shakily. "Don't _use_ me to … to satisfy your bloody _curiosity_. Just 'cause I'm like this, d-doesn't mean …"

I tried to smile but my face wasn't really cooperating. "Oi, c'mon. Don't be like that. You're probably in love with me anyway, right?"

"Wh … what?" he breathed.

"C'mon,' I laughed again, getting to my feet and dusting myself down. I ran a hand through my hair, and shot him my sexy eyes again. "You SO are. You'd fuck me, at least? Aren't I your type, Remus? I'm everyone's type! And I could make you feel reaaal good—"

"Stop it," he said seriously. His face was totally blank. "Why are you acting like this?"

I laughed loudly, hysterically, in a completely unnatural tone. "Sorry, sorry. I'm kidding! OBVIOUSLY. Merlin. I can't believe you've been a faggot this whole time. This is SO like you. Always keeping secrets, as if anyone cares if you like fucking blokes!" I laughed again with a catch in my throat and I was in serious danger of crying right now. And I was, like, completely torn between having a good ol' self-indulgent sob because — why? I didn't feel loved? Or trying to be a fucking man about it and suppress all emotions deep inside like my father taught me how until they explode every so often and make you punch a wall or your son or … oh MERLIN that got way too dark, didn't it?

I'm sorry, father. That never happened. You readers, don't fucking read into that. I was just ranting.

I swear.

I'm sorry. I'm just all over the fucking shop. Am I being too effeminate now that I'm bisexual? Is that a homophobic thing to say?

I DON'T EVEN KNOW.

Oh, Merlin, this was bad. I didn't want to fight with Moony. I just wanted to bloody snog his face off and probably jerk each other off or something. Blowies would be nice, depending on how far he was willing to go. Was the mood really ruined or what? He was glaring so hard. "Sorry," I laughed again, and quickly shot back, "were you saving your first kiss for someone special?" Except I was the only one taking any shots, and yet I felt quite a lot like I had a few too many bullets embedded in my chest right now. And stomach, too … And groin. "I'm just not SPECIAL enough for you, am I, Remus?" I laughed. "Is that it?"

He swallowed slowly, and then looked down at his feet. "Fuck you," he muttered.

"What was that, eh?"

"I said: _fuck you_ ," he repeated, averting his eyes.

"You wish," I snapped. And I really did snap, y'know. That's how I felt anyway. Like my nerves were all taut elastic bands, yanked to breaking point just like that.

He finally looked up, and … oh, shit. I knew it was coming but there was no way to prepare. There it was: that dreaded gaze of disappointment. Only he could do that, y'know, use one bloody look to make me feel like a fucking child throwing a tantrum. My own parents never could make me feel as ashamed of myself as he did, I guess 'cause they never actually cared enough to feel really disappointed in me. But Remus could, and he bloody well did. Remus expected things from me, y'know: he expected me to be good and kind and mature like he was, like normal people could be. But I wasn't like that, not even fucking close. I was spoiled and stupid and an attention whore. Oh, and an actual whore, don't forget about that. But he never did put up with my bullshit like everyone else did, and never worshipped the ground I walked on like I was some Muggle messiah or some crap. He saw right through me, to the dumb, self-centred, not-nice-at-all arsehole that I truly was.

And I thought … bollocks _._ I royally fucked up here. And I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do to make it better. I couldn't just find another slag who didn't care if I fought too rough or moved too quickly. It was different with Remus. I sure didn't want to hurt him, despite doing EXACTLY that so very EXPERTLY just now, because that was ALL I knew how to fucking DO. Fucking take what I wanted and throw away what was left. But I didn't want to throw Remus away. I wanted to keep him by my side, like he had always been before. So, OK, all I had to do was let this dumb homo shit go. That would make him forgive me, right, if I just controlled my fucking weird ass urges?

So … why the bloody fuck was I hesitating?

Well … Urges are urges for a reason, I guess. They meant I wanted something different. Maybe. Like, it wasn't just that I wanted to fuck him. But he was my friend and I loved him … AND I wanted to fuck him.

Shit. Was I in love with Remus? Did I want to date him? I never dated anyone, NEVER. And, to be honest, I totally thought I never would. My friendship with him was always more important than any fucking girl, than romance and dating and sex, ALL that shit. But now I couldn't seem to tell any of that apart.

I mean, I wanted it MY way, too: fast and hard and dirty. But if he didn't want that, I could slow down. I could be …

What? Fucking … GENTLE?

That's so fucking gay.

Yeah, douchebag, that's kinda the point.

In the end, it was too late. Remus had thrown that fateful look and that was the end of the argument, because he had nothing left to say to me after I stooped that fucking low. I didn't blame him, for the record. So he turned on his heel and left me standing there in the dark passage, not understanding any of his bullshit that was bombinating through my brain. My mouth was dry and my legs weren't working. And he was already out of sight, so why was I still standing here?

I was supposed to chase him, right?

But I didn't know how to chase. I was always the fucking rabbit being run down by dogs.

And that scared me, being the one with everything to lose. It fucking terrified me.

So … what?

I'll fucking tell you what.

I had no fucking clue, guys.

I always knew that I was ugly as fuck, on the inside, y'know. But here was the proof. That fellow there was the one person who knew me, the real me, the me I didn't embellish with grins and winks and sexy fucking eyes. Even though I used all those tactics on him, too, all these years. To flirt my way out of being myself, or to evade being pinned down even by those I let in, or something. I dunno, go ask my fucking psychiatrist. But, nah, Remus knew me. He could see my personality all too fucking clear.

And guess what?

He found me fucking repulsive.

I mean, he'd always be my mate. But he wouldn't date a guy like me. And I really didn't blame him, y'know. I didn't blame him in the least. I was a right twat, I'll tell you that. A beautiful twat, but a twat all the same.

And it was only in that moment that I realised it:

Remus Lupin was out of my league.


	4. Chapter 4

Mwaaaahahahaa I'm back! So sorry for the delay. Remus chapters are harder to write than Sirius ones. Also, I just didn't try very hard. Obviously, since it's been what? 6 months? Sorry, not sorry. This chapter is not totally edited yet so please excuse the shittiness in places. I just wanted to put it up already. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the latest installation of debauchery, and drop a review! I super appreciate it :D

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REMUS

"Wormtail borrowed Myrtle's … Myrtle borrowed Wormtail's …"

I hadn't spoken to Sirius in a week. Well, five days to be exact but it felt like a bloody eternity. He was trying, sure. It was my fault for not being able to look him in the eye.

Damn him, the beautiful pervert. I hated him and him beautiful face and his super sexiness and his fucking cock.

His cockiness. I meant. Damn me, I'm a pervert too.

Try as I might (and, honestly, I was loath to admit), but I couldn't seem to get our kiss out of my head. Well, it wasn't very surprising, was it? My best friend/object of my adoration had pushed me up against a wall and shoved his tongue in my mouth — so of course I would be able to think about literally nothing else for, like, literally the rest of my pathetic virgin life? I mean, I was half-fucking-hard for the past fortnight — my balls looked like they belonged to a grossly oversized Cornish pixie with erectile dysfunction. Not even mentioning the fact that … like, it was my first kiss and everything. (Sob.) First _two_ kisses, to be precise. And a half. Surely that last one counted for more, right? That was a real snog, none of this peck on the cheek, peck on the mouth bullshit. That one had tongues and slobber and a hand that wandered and …

Uuugggh. I. Was. SO. AROUSED.

I hated myself. But mostly I hated him.

I was woken from my thoughts by a pound on my arm. I blinked up at my last living friend on heaven or earth, Peter. _Ugh_. Peter was our friend, but _ugh_. We all have that friend, I suppose. Unfortunately, I was only rung above Peter on the _ugh_ -ladder. When things got bad, James always took Sirius' side, and Peter and I were left to _ugh_ together, in each of our respective ways. Even _he_ would have preferred to defer with the other two, but us _ugh_ s of the group didn't exactly have a say in the matter.

"Mooooooony, what's the rest of it again?"

"Aah, rest of what, you ask?"

"The pneumoniac. The thing — you know — Wormtail borrowed Myrtle's …?"

"Five mile dildo," I said. I shuddered. Bet you can't guess who invented that one. It was originally "Moony's five mile dildo" but that just hit a little too close to home for me to pass on. "And it's _mnemonic,_ not pneumonia or whatever you said."

"Right," he sniggered, and began scrawling on his test script. He brandished it with a flourish a moment later, while I crossed my legs uncomfortably and tried to stop thinking about Sirius's tongue in my mouth. "Done!"

"Alright, let's have a look," I said. I scanned it briefly, my eyes barely seeing anything. I was staring at it for minutes before I noticed the most glaring mistake. "Ugh. Peter, you can't just write down the mnemonic. You're supposed to write what it stands for."

"But I can't remember what it stands for!"

"Wiggentree bark, Moly, Flobberworm mucus and Dittany! And — for heaven's sake — it's the ingredients for Wiggenweld potion — not Star Grass Salve!"

"Well, it's not my fault your mnemonic doesn't work," he snapped, sulking. He poked me with a quill. "You know, you've been in a right mood this past week, Remus. It's not _fair_. I can't fail potions again, I just can't!"

"I'm sorry," I said gruffly, in a way that meant I was not sorry at all.

"If you'd just talk to Padfoot—"

"I'm not talking to him."

"Well, if you'd just tell us what happened—"

"Absolutely not!"

He opened his mouth again to berate me with complaints (unknowingly, about his own idiocy), but at that very moment I was saved from my increasingly blushing face by a storm down the stairs, as James came bursting into the common room.

"SPIDER!" he shouted. "IN THE BATHTUB!" Just as the entire room fell quiet, he came to a stumbling halt. He looked around, eyes landing on the two of us before rolling back into his head. "Thought you ought to know," he added.

And then he collapsed to the floor.

Peter and I — and the whole common room, actually — stared for a moment, until he raised his head and got to his knees, ignoring the onlookers — which was rather impertinent, really, after creating such a spectacle — and instead came shuffling up to my chair.

"Moony, please," he said, fixing his glasses in a way I think he thought was endearing. He tugged at my sleeve.

I whipped it out of his grasp. "Why me?"

"Because you know I don't like spiders, and Padfoot doesn't want to break a bloody nail!"

I glanced around, glaring grumpily the last few Gryffindors still gaping at us openly, and grumbled as I got to my feet. Right behind me, James practically pushed me all the way up the spiral staircase, then shoved me into the bathroom where Sirius was standing, arms folded, by the sink. And, you know, he was looking relatively calm compared to all the hullabaloo James was causing.

I should have known it was suspicious. But I was too busy straining to actively regulate my body temperature and blood flow to certain areas to notice something was off.

I glanced at him, awkwardly, and his composed face didn't give way. But the thing about Sirius' face is that he always looks about 0.1 seconds away from cracking a grin or making a raspberry noise or the like. Urged on by James, I gave Sirius a disgruntled sort of nod and went over to the bathtub. "What's all this—?"

From behind there came a slam, and I spun around to find the door shut. I leapt at it and yanked the handle, just as I heard James' voice utter a spell.

"Prongs, let me out! This isn't funny!"

"I won't! Not 'til you two've made up! We're sick to death of this ridiculous fight — so you'll be in there all night 'til you fucking kiss and make up!"

Fuck. Oh sweet bloody fuck.

"You _guys_. What about my test?" Peter was moaning from the other side of the door.

"Shut up, Wormtail. You don't count."

I heard an _ugh_ come from Wormtail but then all was silent on the other side. I tried the doorknob a little more, but it was useless. We had learned voice locking spells in Charms two weeks ago, and everyone was having such splendid fucking fun with them.

Heart beating fast, I glanced around. Sirius had his arms folded, glaring solemnly at me. And then, of course, his face cracked into a grin. "Calm down, Moony. I'm not gonna rape you," he said, reaching out and patting my shoulder. I squirmed uncomfortably, and turned back to the door. He laughed gruffly. "Unless you want me to, that is."

"That's not funny," I muttered, softly banging my fist to the door.

"Ah, mate, sure it is. 'Cause it wouldn't be rape if you liked it, right? It's a joke!"

I shook my head, clenched my teeth, and continued to stare the the door.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, sighing gently. "I'm supposed to be apologising."

I swallowed. "Are you now?"

"Yeah." I heard him straighten up and move towards me, then felt his hand on my arm that gently turned me around. I resisted a little, but not a lot because I was so weak and so desperate and please oh please could he just hold me against my will so my brain couldn't get in the way of my lust any longer? Wouldn't that be nice? Wouldn't that be so _easy_? But he didn't try anything on me, the bastard. Not this time. He just placed both hands on my shoulders and stared me straight in the eye. He glanced briefly at the door, and back to my face. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry for acting so trivially and forgetting that … well, that your friendship means the most to me. I don't want anything that I can only get by hurting you. And I can't bloody stand having you hate me. So … I'm sorry, in general. It won't happen again."

I swallowed again and pursed my lips. It was a decent apology in fairness. But my brain was too busy chastising itself to reply. It went something like this:

 _Say something now, you tremendous fool! It didn't hurt. I don't hate you. I_ want _it too — so badly, so fucking desperately — but my head is too full of fear!_

 _Tell him._ No — no! It's a bad idea. _But you'll_ enjoy _it._ But, what if he _—! Remus John Lupin, for once in your miserable life why don't you be a man and take what you want? Who cares what happens afterwards! You could kill yourself and then him and it wouldn't matter, because_ you _got to sleep with Sirius Black and that's all the world's luck you'll ever need._

I opened my mouth.

A minute passed, and I didn't say a bloody thing.

Sirius examined my face the entire time, and eventually I just shrugged and nodded. He seemed begrudgingly satisfied. He let go of me, and heaved a sigh. "But I'm allowed be mad, too, y'know," he said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and pointing an accusing finger at me. "You kept this from me this whole fucking time. What's that about, eh? You could have _talked_ to me. Confided, even." He rubbed his neck, and I realised how exhausted he looked. His eyes had darker circles than normal beneath them, and his eyes themselves were dull. Was that because of me? I felt fucking awful — mostly — but there was just an ounce of satisfaction hidden in there as well. He looked up at me. "I wouldn't have cared. You know that, right?"

I glanced up, meeting his eyes shyly. Of course I knew he wouldn't care — that much was true. But I wanted him to care. I didn't want him to feel proud of me for coming out and happy for me when I got a boyfriend and excited for me when I lost my virginity. All I wanted was for him to feel possessiveness, jealousy, and burning desire to be the only man I could ever love. I wanted him to suffer knowing he could be mine and wasn't.

I was such a bad friend.

I nodded slightly, looking down at the ground.

"Well, alright then!" he said. "Cheer the fuck up, old boy. I didn't even get to ask you about it, for Merlin's sake." He leaned in a little, grinning cheekily up at me. "D'you fancy anyone right now?"

"Er, no, no, not really," I lied.

"Well, what kind of guys do you like?" I shook my head, mouth flapping like a fish. "Obviously not handsome ones, eh?" he laughed, pointing at himself.

"I-I really couldn't say," I got out.

"Oh, come on, Remus," he sighed. "Me, I'd like a real smarmy kinda bastard. It'd be so satisfying to make him moan like a girl, y'know?"

He was laughing, and I was getting red. That was exactly what I'd like. Especially if it were him moaning beneath me and biting his pillow as he begged me for my cock …

"What about Bent Bertram?"

"W-what about him?"

"Do. You. Like. Him? He's bent, you know."

"Oh … I thought that was just a nickname."

"Nah, that's what everyone thinks. But it's true, he even confessed to me once. Crying and everything, the poor lad. He sure had balls to do it, though, seen as how James and I were the ones who gave him the nickname in the first place." He paused thoughtfully. "Felt so bad for him I even let him touch me a bit."

My heart seemed to stop beating. "T-touch you?"

"Yeah, like just under the shirt a bit. Nothing gay." He burst out laughing. "I mean nothing _too_ gay." Sirius smiled to himself, while my blood seemed to boil in my very veins. He looked bloody reminiscent. What the fuck? Why was Bent Bertram getting sympathy touching and here I was kicking myself over a few bloody kisses I couldn't even admit I enjoyed? Sirius shook himself out of the memory of another guy's touch and glanced at me with a shrewd smile. "So you wouldn't be interested in him?"

"Are you trying to set me up?" I laughed nervously. I felt like puking.

He smiled slightly, and looked away. "No, actually. I said I'd go out with him tonight, so I just wanted to make sure you weren't after him."

My blue balls seemed to retract into my body. "You … you're … _what_?"

"Goin' out! Well, by that I mean we're meeting in the Prefect's bathroom so it'll pretty much just be … well, you know." He laughed, and then stopped and looked seriously at me. "But that's ok, right? You're not into him?"

I blinked at Sirius' well-meaning face. Could I punch it? I really had no right to punch it right now, did I? Oh I wanted to sock it. Knock it out cold. Then cum on his face. I don't know. I'm sorry. I really don't know.

"Fine," I choked. "Of course. I can't — That's fine."

"Cool," he said. "Actually I should shower now, so … we're good right?"

"Mm hm," I squeaked.

Sirius just went ahead and ripped his shirt over his head and I immediately got a hard-on. "Oh, one more thing," he said, unbuckling his belt with a few clicks. His trousers came down. I gaped at him, but he just turned around and stepped right out of his jocks and into the shower. Oh Merlin. I saw his arse. I mean, I had seen it before — we share a dorm for Merlin's sake — but the most recent times it was only peeking over the top of his jeans as he mooned passer-bys from the boarded up windows of the Shrieking Shack. However, this was a fresh image for my collection, a full-length nude complete with the dimples in his lower back and all that beautiful black hair covering his legs, and places. Like a photograph I burned it into my memory. My boner throbbed painfully. I wanted to bite him.

The sound of the shower starting stirred me from my testerone-induced stupor. When I looked up, he was looking over his shoulder at me quizzically. As he began to turn around I wrenched the shower curtain between us with a yelp, not before barely almost catching the slightest glancing glimpse of his … _thing_.

"Ah — err — what were you saying?" I asked shrilly.

He pulled the curtain away, slightly, sticking his wet head out. He smiled. "I can borrow your badge, right?"

I stared at him for a moment. "… Right! Yes, of course!" With shaking hands I removed my Prefect's badge and placed it on the sink. I looked back at him, and he grinned at me. I couldn't even pretend to smile back. How could I when the lust of my life was about to go off and fuck another guy, with my own bloody badge giving him the means to do it? I hated his stupid goofy sexy grin and his stupid delicious ass and his stupid pale skin that was all slick and bare and gleaming right on the other side of that stupidly opaque shower curtain. I was itching to grab him by his matted wet hair and — well, not hurt him, if possible, so maybe I should grab his arm? And then — and then I'd push him down onto the tiles! And — yeah, no, OK, tiles would probably be cold and unsexy — perhaps push him against the wall then? And — oh Merlin, what the hell was I thinking of right now?

And more importantly, did I have the balls to do it?

His smile had faded a little and he was watching my expression.

"Er … Sirius," I breathed.

"What, Remus?" asked Sirius, his voice very low all of a sudden. Was I being very obvious, or did he know the whole time that I'd never be able to let him go off and have sex with another guy? He knew, didn't he, and planned this whole thing to force me into this situation? Using my own possessiveness against me? Abusing my lack of self-control? Manipulating me in order to satisfy his sexual appetite?

What a bastard.

… What the heck was I complaining about?

I took a deep breath and stole a glance at his face. "Sirius, you … you're not really going to do this, are you?"

He smiled and gave a shrug. "Why not?"

I stared at him, so many words on the tip of my tongue. Because you can't. Because I don't want you to. Because I want it to be me. But in my cowardly ways I just breathed for a minute or two. I let go of his gaze and said, "No reason, I guess."

After that James let me out, and I hurt my face from false-smiling as I bid Sirius farewell and good luck, listening to James complain about our lady-killer friend and ignoring Peter's hysterics about failing Potions for the thirteenth and a half time. I didn't care — all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and allow myself the sweet torture of masturbating to the thought of another guy's dick plowing into that beautiful backside, until I drowned in my own spunk or tears — whichever came first.

It seemed the only thing to do.

That's what I thought, at least. But when Sirius hadn't returned over an hour and a half later and I was all out of nut, I suddenly found myself rushing out to chase the rabbit.

Better late than never, right?

When I arrived at the Prefect's bathroom — after waiting a moment in sudden uncertainty, wondering if it was really OK to burst in and — should I knock, or what? How did this work? — and eventually resigning to recklessness for the first time in my life — all I burst in on was Bent Bertram, bathing alone.

I blinked at the second naked man I had seen this evening, and he blinked back at me before jumping and reaching for his towel.

"Sorry to disturb …" I paused. "Oh, fuck it. Where's Sirius?"

"Who?" he asked, laughing nervously and dunking the entire towel into the bath to shield his manhood. "What?"

"Sirius. Y'know—"

"Sirius Black?" he replied, his voice unnaturally high. "Why I — how should I know? Why would he —? I mean — I hardly know him! Is he even a Prefect?"

Oh, dear. He was blabbering. I glanced around briefly, looking for any signs of my friend — brightly coloured underwear or condom wrappers, anything! — and then back at Bertram's frightened and flushed face. "Now — now just calm down! " I said sternly. "I _know_ — alright? He told me. He's gay — you're gay — _I'm_ fucking gay! We're all great big bloody fags, isn't it fantastic? Now — _tell me where he is!_ "

"He — I don't know!" he cried. "He left — He said he had a date with someone called Ros." He sighed. "Can you believe it? The bastard's not even gay. I knew it was too good to be true."

"Ros," I repeated, nodding my head. "Thank you, thank you! Enjoy your bath!"

Bertram rested his elbow on the side of the bath and his chin in his palm, contemplating me. "My bath was already ruined when he left. You're really going after him?"

"I suppose I am," I sighed.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "He's a right arsehole, you know."

"I know," I laughed. I knew more than anyone. I paused a moment, wondering how to explain. "I'm in love with that arsehole."

He eyed me a moment, then sighed a heavy sigh. "You poor dear," he said. "Well, good luck with that."

"Thank you," I said again. I walked out, completed disoriented. I briefly acknowledged that Bent Bertram might have been up for something if I had stayed, but, well, when the choice was between him and Sirius — Sirius and _anyone_ — well, it wasn't really a choice was it?

The fire of irrationality had been lit within me, and so I immediately headed out. On the way I couldn't help but dwell on my spontaneous admission of love. Really I was just trying to excuse myself; my lust and my obsession and my desperation, to paint a portrait of romance and sanity and commonplace emotion. I still didn't think it was necessarily _true_.

The more I thought about it, the more I began to worry. What the heck would I have done if they had been smack in the middle of it — stopped them in the process and argued my case? Asked to join in? Pulled Sirius away and sat him down and explained calmly that I didn't want to deal with the ins and outs of dating him, but I would rather he didn't date any other guy, either?

I tried to breath. It didn't matter anyway — he hadn't gone through with it. I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed. And I had no idea why — or what state he'd be in when I found him. But tonight ... maybe I had just lost it already. But tonight I just wanted to be be a bit more like Sirius, and stay impetuous for as long as I dared.

* * *

"Eh … eh, Madam Rosmerta … you love me dontcha?"

Heart beating fast, I approached the bar of the Three Broomsticks, my face hastily transfigured and the ankles of my pyjamas barely hidden under my robes. I recognised Sirius' coat and his frame, but his face currently resembled a middle-aged man. Well, he sure looked the sort to be drinking alone in the middle of the week.

"Of course, m'dear," sang Madame Rosmerta. "I'd give you a kiss right now but … well, you're not exactly yourself right now, are you?"

Sirius chuckled and then suddenly wailed. "What — what, y'mean ta say you only love my face? So mean!" He raised his drink to his face and slurped it down, slamming it back on the bar. "'Nother, please!"

"Alright, boy, don't get rowdy now," said the barmaid, still jovial but taking on a slightly more serious tone. Her eyes glanced to me as I hovered nearby, and I was pretty sure she gave me a slight nod, and turned her attention back to Sirius as he continued to natter away.

"Y'know who doesn't like m'face, though …?" he was grumbling. "Stupid Remus, tha's who." He sighed loudly, suppressing a hiccough. "All the girls love me face, but they don't know ME. HE knows me, though, if y'know what I mean. He's supposed to be my bloody — hic — FRIEND! … Well, FUCK." Rosmerta swept another shot glass towards him and he picked it up, peering closely at it. "Firewhiskey!" he decided happily, raising the glass high. "Yah — _hic!_ — Firey … er, Firey-whiskey is the only bloody … bloddy friend I need!"

His knocked it back and his head banged to the bar.

"Sirius," I whispered, rushing forwards. "Sirius, you idiot, are you OK?"

"Hah …?" Bleary eyes raised and met mine. "Eh, _Remus_?" he whispered loudly back, and threw an arm around my shoulder, almost toppling us both to the ground. He embraced me tightly, laughing hysterically, as I tried to regain balance for both of us. "Remus! Remus — Remuuuuss! It's ME! SI-RI-US! Seriously!" He giggled like a school girl and his knees dropped out from under him.

"Oi, oi! You're making a scene," I hissed. Rosmerta was giving me intense _get him out of here_ eyes. Sirius clambered on me to keep on his feet, and sniggered, pressing his face into my shoulder.

"YOU'RE making a scene. 'M totally to-gal-ally fiiiiine."

"Let's get out of here, OK?" I suggested. I was talking to a bloody child. Although middle-aged and smelling like a Scottish brewery, I have to say I still probably would.

"Yeah … yeah! Let's do it. Let's doooo iiiitttt." He paused briefly, swaying, and then looked up at me, suppressing a giggle with his hand. "'M really drunk …" He said, swaying forwards and clutching my shirt. He blinked at my chest, his mouth going slack. "Gonna … puke …"

"Oh, Merlin." I threw his arm around my shoulder and practically princess carried him to the toilets. Once inside, with sudden strength he pulled me inside a cubicle and clung to me tight, his hands clenching up in my clothes. He breathed into my neck, hot and heavy with 90% alcohol, and I suddenly felt like I could use a drink or ten myself.

As quick as he caught me, he let me go again and turned around. "Just gimme a sec …" As he hung over the toilet, I scrambled at the door and backed up towards the urinals in terror. So I could still keep an eye on him, you know, but not in such close quarters that he could pin me against a wall like that …

I also checked that we were alone, which we were, and sighed.

Ten minutes, and Sirius hadn't puked — but he _had_ managed to slide down to sit on the floor — then lie on the floor, looking at me and laughing.

"So … you're OK to go now?"

He burped. "One more minute, Remus. I feel fuckin' putrid."

"Why on earth did you drink so much anyway?"

"Who knows," he sang, eyes half closed. He squinted at me like that and smirked. "How'd you find me, anyway?"

I looked at him for a moment, breathing in deeply. "Who knows," I sighed.

He sniggered, and then laughed loudly. "Oh, BOY, I see what you did there. So SLY, Remus. Sooooo slyyyy."

He raised his eyebrows sleepily.

I looked around briefly, and approached the cubicle. I leaned against the door frame. "What happened with Bertram, then?"

"Goh shmokes?" he asked.

"Yes but you can't smoke in here."

He belched loudly. "Fuck! I don't fucking know. That bitch wanted to be romanced or some shit. What a fucking joke."

"Why is that such a joke?" I asked.

"Well," he went on happily, "I figured since we were both dudes there'd be none of that shiting around playing coy like with girls, y'know? Isn't that the ENTIRE point?"

"What, because guys are just animals that can fuck with no feelings?"

He blinked at me. "Er, yeah." He grinned, and hit my leg teasingly. Flirtily, you might even say. He giggled.

"We're not all like that, you know."

"Whatever," he said, shakily getting to his feet. "I just wasn't into it."

But apparently my mouth hadn't finished talking. "You take it for granted, being a bloke. You don't know what its like being on the other end of it. It … it's scary, y'know. Letting someone else …" I swallowed nervously, batting him away as he stumbled on the spot. "Maybe the reason anyone wants to be romanced — even a little, I mean — is so they can convince themselves that you _care_ enough not to hurt them. Or something. You know, just so they think they can trust you enough to take the reigns."

"I know how t'ride an bloody 'orse, Remus," he said blearily.

I stared at him. "You literally missed my entire point."

"NO, I DIDN'T," he said, coming up to me and hitting my chest. "But if I'm fuckin' another guy, why should I have t'take the reigns anyway? Why is that the fuckin' presumpt — prejumption? Because I'm STRAIGHT, is it? Y'know, it's fucking hilarious, but y'know I NEVER fucking take the reigns with girls. It's fuckin' boring! They think they can just _lie_ there and be _pretty_ and I'll help myself — but what if I wanna lie there, eh? Eh? What if ... what if _I_ want to be pretty?"

I blinked at the sheer enormity of questions that manifested from that particular little rant. But most importantly: "You never …?"

"NEVER," he said, his head bobbing up and down. "Bent Bertram wanted me to take the reigns so I got bored and left. Y'happy, Remus? Now you fuckin' know."

My heart had literally stopped. Literally. "Wait — wait. By taking the reigns, do you really mean what I think you mean?"

"Who knows," he snorted. "Why're you so interested alluva sudden, eh?"

"I … I was just wondering if you were really able to do it with a guy, I guess," I admitted. Sirius was so drunk, I highly doubted he'd even remember this tomorrow. And my curiosity was really getting the better of me. I stared at him, watching as he swayed on his feet. "How far did you go?"

"Snogged 'im," he said, chuckling. "Got a bit handsy."

"Did you like it?"

He laughed openly. "He was a li'l bristly, so it was pretty different to a girl." He suddenly caught himself on the wall and steadied enough to shoot me a point blank stare with a smirk attached for good measure. "He was an alri' kisser, but I was more excited with you."

I blinked, gasping a little for air. Just when I thought he was about to make a move, he stopped, snapping his fingers together.

"My father had a beard, y'know! Real MANLY one, too. Fuck me, I always wanted to touch it! But father wasn't a touchy man. I was allowed sit on his lap once a week, for family history lessons. Did I ever tell you that? We have this bigass tapestry — have y'seen it?"

"I've never been to your house," I said.

"You should. Well, not now. My name's not on there anymore, either. Blown right off my my mother. Pew pew!" He squinted for a moment, and then his face fell blank. "Maybe I'll grow a beard. After school, I mean."

I waited a minute — curious to see if this apparent father complex would exhibit itself further — but it seemed like he was done. "… Should we go?"

"'Mkay," he muttered, and collapsed against me. I stared at the wall a moment, and then sighed and dragged him out into the hallway and out of the back door. We walked — well, I walked, he was towed along — halfway through Hogsmeade before I gave up and let him clamber onto my back. He was heavy, but happy, and I have to admit that I didn't mind the arms wrapped around my shoulders and the mouth that snuggled into my neck.

We were crossing the fence of the land on which the Shrieking Shack stood, when, after a minute of rummaging though my pockets, he let out a cry. "Fuck yeah!" he said, grabbing my head and kissing it. "Fucking ciggies, mate! I fucking love you!"

As he lit up and took a puff, he stopped and looked down at his hand. He was quiet for a moment. "Y'know, my mother has a bad back," he finally said. _Oh dear_ , I thought, _and here comes the Oedipus_. "From all the evil dragging her down to hell, I guess. So her bloody back went and acted up while she was in the bath. Over the summer, y'know. And Kreacher was nowhere to be found and she was screaming and screaming and SCREAMING at me. So in the end I had to help her out and all that. Turns out, mother has a real pair on 'er. I guess, she's a woman, if ya get me?" He swallowed. "And after that, it kept coming into my head whenever I was wankin'. Really fuckin' stupid. But it made me angry. And being angry made me horny. Fuckin' disgustin', right? And then, y'know, I fucking realised... it's like I'm always angry when having sex? I always feel like I'm getting revenge. Or something. That's fucked up, right?"

I kept quiet for a moment. Then that moment passed and I still didn't know what to say.

Sirius puffed behind my ear and tickled my neck with his smokey breath. "I really hate girls. Y'know? I just hate them. It's just as well I can fuck guys now too. I might as well go one hundred per cent gay." He sighed. "But it'll never change the fact that my mum's tits come into my head whenever I'm having a wank. And I'll never not see my mum's fucking hands whenever I hold a cigarette." He stretched his hand out in front of me. "So fuckin' feminine. I hate my hands."

"I think they're handsome and elegant," I said quietly.

He chuckled a little, sometime later, elbowing me gently. "Ooooh-er. And you say you ain't in love with me."

I took a deep breath. "What if I am?"

He whistled low. "Are you really?" he asked curiously.

"Of course not," I snapped.

"Oh," he said. "Alright." We were silent for a few minutes, finding our way towards the Shrieking Shack in the dark. "But what if I'm in love with you?" he said eventually.

My body became slightly more rigid. "Are you?" I asked. "I mean, are you even capable of love?"

"Ouch, Remus. That fucking hurts."

"Sorry." He rubbed his face into my shoulder, and I felt him sigh. I was a little too aware of his warmth on my back, his hands clutching my shirt and his legs around my waist. I hesitated, feeling nauseous and curious at the same time. "Are you, though?"

"Dunno," he grumbled. "I dunno the difference. I love ya, like. I wanna be best mates with ya forever anyway, and it'd be great if we could fuck while were at it."

I groaned a little. "I don't think that's love, Sirius."

"Well, poo. Still I just can't help thinkin' …" He paused briefly, flicking his cigarette away. "Nah, nevermind ... I said I wouldn't go on about it."

I felt an ache in my heart as we continued on in silence, trudging heavily through the dark night. I thought about Sirius and how secure and self-aware I always thought he was. But suddenly I wasn't so sure. I wanted to keep talking. I wanted to get to the bottom of it. He was trying to be considerate by letting it go, but I was still holding on tight.

So I inhaled and then bravely said something that I thought was rather ridiculous. It even made me laugh, how silly it seemed: so incredibly ludicrous that it was a mighty fine match for Sirius, the master of slagging off his mates.

I said, "You really hate girls? Rather, isn't it just that you're jealous of them?"

Sirius's body lurched up, his hands digging into my chest. "What!?" he snapped. "What the fuck does that — No WAY. I'm not … what the fuck?"

"Er, I was just kidding, Sirius," I said quickly.

"Well," he said. "It's not funny, is it?" He scrambled up my back, trying to push off. "Let me _down_ , Moony." I was just trying to keep my balance as he fidgeted, but he was suddenly impatient. "I mean, I hate them means I HATE them. Fuck! To be jealous of them, I'd have to hate my SELF, and that's obviously not the fucking case, is it? You think it's girly to wanna get fucked in the ass or somethin'?"

I stopped in my tracks, my arms going limp. He slid off my back and crumpled to the ground. I spun around. "Sorry!" He looked up at me from the ground, his face as serious as his name. It didn't change, didn't crack into a grin or blow a raspberry or anything. Feeling the weight of every action I made, I knelt down and reached to help him up, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him. I swallowed nervously, as he looked me straight in the eye. He clenched his teeth and averted his eyes, letting me go. "I'm still a MAN. Just because I wanna try being fucked liked a woman..." He pouted a little, crossing his arms and looking suddenly more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him in my life. "Just, I'm still a MAN, OK?"

"Yes!" I agreed. "Of course, I know that! I mean ... I'm gay, so I wouldn't like you if you weren't."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "So you DO like me?"

"Well, I ... I do but … only your face."

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm just like all those girls, the ones you hate!" I blurted out. He wasn't going to remember this in the morning, right? "I honestly don't care about anything but your looks!"

He faltered briefly, but regained himself with a slight edge of uncertainty that I rarely heard in his laugh. "What are you talking about? We're friends. You have to like me ... Right?"

"Well, I do!" I assured him. "Really, I do! But I don't think it's the same …"

He laughed again, but anxiously. "Are you stupid? My face isn't even my face right now."

"That's true." I looked at him now, trying to see him like I had never seen him before. But I couldn't. It was just Sirius in someone else's skin. Did I love him? Maybe. Did I want him? Yes. How tempted was I to use and abuse him and fuck the future and our friendship? Very.

"I'm serious, y'know," he said quietly. "About ya. For the first time in my life, probably. I am serious."

My heart in my throat, I wet my lips with my tongue as our eyes searched each other's. A mutual decision seemed to have been made because another minute later our faces inched closer together, like very shy magnets. Just as I was about to close my eyes, I felt him stop, and his breath changed on my face as his mouth broke into a grin.

"Cuz that's my name," he whispered.

My eyes flew open, and I shoved him off me. "Fuck! Fuck you! ARGH! You absolute bastard!"

"Wait — REMUS!" He leapt from the ground and grabbed me around the middle. I struggled, but he held on tight, pressing his face into my stomach. "I'm sorry!" He stifled a laugh. "I'm still pretty drunk — thought I was sobering up there, but I just got the giggles, mate. I really, really am seriously sorry."

He clutched my clothes and dragged himself to his feet, taking my face in his hands. Panicked, and legs like jelly, I rolled my eyes slowly to meet his. He looked up into my face, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. His skin looked bad from drinking, and he looked like shit in general. But I didn't really seem to care. Fumbling with my hands, my words, my brain, I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt. He closed his eyes tight and wrinkled his brow, his forehead leaning to press against mine.

"I don't know how to do this at all, OK? I like you but I wanna wait 'til I'm sober to kiss you again."

I swallowed nervously, my entire body frozen. I had lost all sense of reason because I really couldn't seem to remember why I had any doubts about it in the first place. But hadn't he overlooked a few things here?

Most importantly: "What about … er, taking the reigns?"

He pulled back a little, and I squinted my eyes open to see his reaction. He was smiling a little, his brow raised in amusement. "Well, should I wait for _you_ to kiss _me_ , then?"

"Ah, yes!" I replied obediently. "Yes, jolly good idea, Sirius." Yes, kissing! That was first. Mouths. Then dicks. Then his hole. _His_ hole? Holy Merlin. Was I really this lucky? I may have settled with a bit of pressure for it to be the other way around, but this … how the fuck could I say no to this?

In all honesty I didn't think I could wait 'til he was sober.

But — wow! — taking the reigns was a lot more difficult than I imagined. He dropped my arms and straightened up, and I stood in front of him for a full minute unable to move.

He opened his eyes. "Shall we head to the shack?" he asked drowsily.

"Wait — wait! Just give me a second!" He raised a brow at me, blinking a decent few times as he stared into my eyes in wait. I willed myself to reach up and touch his cheek — and after a score or so seconds I did it. I actually did! My teeth were chattering. I licked my lips, and glanced up to his face. His mouth was set hard and his gaze had become distracted somewhere else. Shit! He was waiting! What the fuck was I doing! I bent a little and leaned in, and as my eyes began to close I saw his cheeks puff out a little. Huh? He grabbed my shirt and swayed in a little, his face falling onto my chest.

What?

"Ugh," he groaned, and then Sirius puked all over my robes.


End file.
